


Do you get a rush when our cheeks brush? (A collection of mini-fics)

by goldenheadfreckledheart



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:10:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4952905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheadfreckledheart/pseuds/goldenheadfreckledheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked for mini-fic prompts on tumblr, and these are the results. 100% Bellarke. 100% fluff.</p>
<p>These have all been posted to tumblr, but I figured I'd stick them here for anyone who wants to read them.</p>
<p>(Title from He is We)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Can you do a surfer!au for bellarke?? Like they're both really good/competitive in the circuit and have a rivalry or even they just surf at the same beach and Clarke has a hate crush or something. I dunno it'd be really cute :)"
> 
> A/N: Since I know literally nothing about surfing or how those competitions work, I tweaked this, just a bit.

Clarke doesn’t actively hate the dark haired, broad shouldered surfer who always seems to be on her stretch of beach at the exact same times she’s there.

She doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he’s not incredibly aggravating. 

He smirks at her every time they’re remotely close to each other. Which is often, because she’s there to _surf_  goddammit and she’s not going to let proximity to her cocky companion keep her from riding the best waves.

And she might be imagining it (though she vehemently doubts it) but he always seems to one-up her on the next wave when she pulls of a particularly challenging trick. It bugs the shit out of her for two reasons.

One, because she’s fucking good. She  _knows_ that, and watching him do better than her isn’t any kind of blow to her confidence. And two, despite her confidence in her skills, she’s really not there to impress anyone, so she’d much prefer if kept his eyes on the water, rather than her.

(That doesn’t mean that her eyes don’t wander, occasionally, to the tanned skin of his bare chest, following the freckles that start there up to where they scatter across his cheekbones. She’s only human.)

She’s never actually spoken to him until the day she notices a red gash on his leg after he goes down particularly hard.  _While trying to show her up_ , she thinks, exasperated.

It’s not till he begins to paddle out again that she speaks.

“Your leg is bleeding,” she calls.

His head jerks toward her, droplets spraying from his hair.

“Your leg,” she says again, pointing.

He just kind of shrugs, still looking at her.

She rolls her eyes,  _idiot_ , before jerking her head toward the shore, indicating that he follow. He sloshes through the shallow water behind her when they reach the sand and she heads for her backpack.

“It’s just a scratch,” he says, voice deep and maybe the slightest bit annoyed.

“It’s a scratch that’s going to get infected if you’re stupid enough to go back into the water.” She rummages through her bag to pull out a bottle of antiseptic.

“Come here,” she demands, and it surprises her a little that he does, with little hesitance, after setting down his board.

She sits down in the sand and he does the same, stretching his leg out in front of him when she gestures that he do so.

“This might sting,” she murmurs as she pours the solution over the wound.

To his credit, he only winces a little, “What are you, a doctor?”

She considers a biting response, but his words aren’t actually that antagonistic. 

“Med student, actually.”

It’s satisfying to see his eyes go wide.

“You need to put a proper bandage on this before you even think about getting about getting back in the water.”

He laughs then, which is admittedly a great sound, but she has trouble doing anything but look at him like he’s crazy.

“Sorry, it’s just that my sister’s always telling me that I don’t take care of myself, and coming home with a bleeding leg isn’t gonna help my side of that argument.”

She grins a little at the fondness in his voice, “Yeah, I’m inclined to agree with her.”

“It’s too bad I have to stop for today,” he says, a little…nervously? “I was really going to impress you on that next wave.”

_Impress…her…?_

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do?” She’s having trouble processing that.

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his head and it is  _really_  difficult not to appreciate the defined muscles in his arm, “But you’re really good, so it’s kind of difficult.”

She can’t help but scoff, “You didn’t think  _talking_  to me might have been a better idea?” she grins when he looks sheepish, “Like ‘hey, you’re a surfing goddess, do you want to get coffee sometime?’” 

He’s grinning back when she finishes. “What’s your name?”

“Clarke. You?”

“Bellamy.” 

She nods.

“Hey Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a surfing goddess,” he pauses for emphasis and she tries not to laugh (although laughing might be better than the blush that creeping into her cheeks), “Do you want to get coffee with me sometime?”

She bites her lip to keep from grinning, “I don’t really go out with guys that don’t know basic first aid.”

.

.

.

He proudly presents his own bottle of antiseptic when they meet at her favorite coffee shop the next day, and she can’t do anything but laugh and kiss his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Clarke trying to kiss Bellamy’s cheek while he's asleep but he shifts and she accidentally kisses him on the lips. Then she pulls back flustered while Bellamy pulls her back for a real kiss. Or vice versa! :)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twisted this just the teeniest bit. Featuring unintentional domesticity.

It’s a strange thing she has with Bellamy. Falling for someone you swore you’d never even  _like_  tends to be a little jarring.

She could handle his constant barrage of snark much better before she could see the warmth lingering beneath each comment. And if she forces herself to think about it, her retorts, once biting, now verge on affectionate.

She’s so comfortable with him now that falling asleep in his apartment doesn’t trigger any nervous anxiety and it kind of freaks her out. It’s unsettlingly  _not_ unsettling thatthe smell of his sheets is an instant comfort.

But then, maybe it’s not the worst, because her unconscious ease around him makes the move that she never would herself.

She’s half asleep on top of his covers after coming back from an eight hour shift. Some part of her brain hears him pad into the room when he finishes his work in the other room.

“Claaarke,” he drawls, softly, “Are we getting take out?”

She just wrinkles her nose a little and offers a quiet “Mmm.”

“C’mon. I’m hungry and you owe me Chinese.”

When she doesn’t respond, he takes to drawing lazy patterns across her face with a fingertip.

“Stop it, Bell…” she whines.

“Welcome back to the world of the conscious,” he says, laughingly.

She feels him press a soft kiss to her cheek. That’s not unusual either, but her sleep addled brain won’t let her overthink it. Her eyes flutter open lazily to find him crouching at the side of the bed, an ironic smile on his face.

Her hand curls around his where it’s braced on the bed and she tugs him toward her, just a little.

He laughs again, soft and barely more than a breath, “What does the princess want now?”

“Just you,” she mumbles quietly, before pressing her lips against his, chaste and warm.

If she were fully awake, she might have seen his eyes widen for a split second before his hand slips into her hair and he kisses her back, just as brief.

“That’s fine, but you still owe me Chinese.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Bellarke modern AU where they are fighting over a board game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring Wells/Raven

“Who the fuck decided Monopoly was a good idea?” Raven groans, leaning into Wells’ shoulder.

“Probably one of them,” Wells murmurs, nodding to where their best friends are coming dangerously close to ripping heads off over fictional properties.

(“Boardwalk is worth way more than that, and you know it, asshole.” “It’s a generous offer, Princess, take it while it’s still good.”)

“Remind me why we thought it would be a good idea to introduce them?”

“They’re practically the same person. Bellamy’s stubborn. Clarke takes no shit. It should have worked.”

Raven lifts her head, “You know that actually sounds like a horrible combination, right?”

He flicks her ponytail, “You had plenty of time time to voice your dissension, don’t give me that.”

.

.

.

They honestly think they’re going to be responsible for the apocalypse until Raven catches Bellamy staring at Clarke when she gets up to leave, moaning about her killer shift in the morning.

They don’t know Bellamy stops by the hospital with two cups of coffee the next day, but Wells does walk in on them making out on Clarke’s couch the following week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You told me I could do your makeup but I don't have a good angle to do your eyebrows so oops now I'm straddling you but ur eyebrows are on fleek"

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Bellamy mumbles from where her wrist is covering half of his mouth.

“Shut up, I can’t do this when you’re moving your mouth.”

She’s still not entirely sure why her art professor thinks doing makeup on someone of a gender other than their own constitutes a good assignment, but here they are. She’s heard that art should make you feel uncomfortable, but she’s pretty sure the leaning-over-your-extremely-attractive-sort-of-friend type of uncomfortable isn’t exactly what they meant.

She makes a sound of frustration at the back of her throat, “I can’t do your brows from this angle.”

“You realize this probably doesn’t have to be  _good_ right? It’s for a beginners art class.”

“I don’t do things halfway, Blake. Stop talking.”

She tries again for his brows, but her hand is just really not steady when there’s nothing to rest her wrist on. She moves one leg over from where she’s kneeling next to him and,  _yes, so much better._

It takes her a solid five seconds to realize she’s basically straddling him and her hand freezes, her face going hot.

“If you were into me, you could have just said something.”

She hopes her voice doesn’t tremble when she says, “Shut up.”

Her hand actually  _is_  trembling when she goes to brace it on the floor to climb off of him, but his own hand grasps her wrist to keep her from moving any farther.

Before she has any idea what’s going on, he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips to hers, insistent but brief. Her eyes squeeze shut, mostly out of surprise, because kissing Bellamy Blake is not a thing she’s ever let herself imagine.

Her eyes are still closed when he pulls back and says, “I probably should have been less sarcastic about that. If you’re into me you should definitely say something, because I’m definitely into you…”

She opens her eyes just as he finishes–

“…In case that wasn’t obvious.”

His hand is still around her wrist, and she’s still basically sitting in his lap, so it’s incredibly easy for her to say “shut up,” before leaning in to kiss him back.

.

.

.

“You look ridiculous with only one good eyebrow.”

“Pretty sure you wouldn’t be kissing me if you didn’t think my eyebrows were good all the time.”

“True. It’s not like anyone could ever like you for your personality.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “sir I can’t give you any more samples this is the third time you’ve come here today”

Handing out samples at Costco isn’t Clarke’s ideal summer job, but it is a  _job,_ and a way to get out of the house, so she’ll take it.

Sometimes it’s even fun, interacting with young children who beg their parents  _please, please_  for a piece of donut, or chatting with talkative old ladies with years of stories to tell.

Today though, she’s intrigued by the characteristically tall, dark, and handsome man who’s already stopped by her table twice for a tiny paper cup of chocolate milk. She’d be flattered, except both times he’s refrained from even meeting her eyes.

When he shows up a third time, just minutes later, she decides to speak up, partially because it  _is_ their policy to only allow two samples per customer–not than anyone ever enforces that rule–but mostly because she’s just really curious.

“Sir, I’m actually not allowed to give you more than two samples.”

His hand freezes, comically, just inches away from a cup and she has to try ridiculously hard not to laugh.

He drops his hand to his side, “Oh. Uh sorry, I–”

He finally looks up to meet her eyes with his own dark ones. Upon noticing her restrained smile, he breaks out into a grin of his own, and yeah. Tall, dark, and handsome may have been an understatement.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m only here because my sister dared me to see how many I could take before anyone noticed?”

“Only if said sister actually exists and you didn’t just make her up.”

He laughs at that and holds up a finger before disappearing around to corner, to return a moment later with a girl of about ten, her dark bangs falling into her eyes. The effect is pretty adorable.

“O, tell the nice lady what you made me do.”

Rather than looking sheepish, the girl grins, “I told him to keep coming back til he gets in trouble,” she giggles, “Or else I wouldn’t give him his birthday present.”

Clarke laughs, then grabs a cup, leaning down to hand it to the girl, “Diabolical. I like how you think.”

“Hey!” her brother protests,

“What?” Clarke asks, grinning, “You’ve taken two. As far as I’m concerned, she hasn’t had any.”

He rolls his eyes as his sister laughs, but there’s a smile lingering on his lips as well.

“What do you say, O?”

“Thank you!” his sister chirps.

When they walk away, hand in hand, to finish their shopping, she wonders if she’ll see him again.

(She does, the following week, when he shows up to ask if there’s a limit on how many times customers are allowed to ask for her number. She tells him it doesn’t matter, since he only needs to ask once.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I accidentally punched you in the face when I was trying to punch a different guy in the face I am so sorry au"

The hand covering his nose is now dripping blood as the pretty blonde girl in front of him waves her hands nervously.

“I’m so sorry, god I’m sorry, I–”

“It’s fine,” he says, voice muffled by his hand, “Wasn’t meant for me, I get it.”

A rag appears in front of his face and he takes it, using it to catch the blood still streaming from his nose. He feels a cool hand grasp his chin, turning his head to the side.

“I don’t think it’s broken. Use your other hand to keep pressure beneath the bridge of your nose.”

He does as she says, tilting his head back a little.

“Lower,” she chides.

He looks back down at her, raising an eyebrow as he moves his fingers farther down, “Are you this bossy with all the people you punch in the face?”

A shadow crosses her face and he feels a little bad.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“It’s fine. Thanks.” He regards her for a second, “Did he deserve it?”

Her grin is wolfish and, admittedly, a little scary, “He cheated on his girlfriend with me and came here tonight because he knew we’d both be here. I’m still not sure which one of us he was trying to win over.”

“Douche,” he hisses, “You want to go find him? I wouldn’t mind helping with that beating.”

Her face softens and she smiles at him a little, “That’s alright, Raven’s got it covered. The offer is appreciated though.”

“Buy you a drink, then?” he asks, inclining his head toward the bar and wondering if he’s pushing his luck.

When she grins at him, wide, he decides he’s not doing so bad.

“I’m the one who punched you in the face, shouldn’t I be buying  _your_  drink?”

He laughs, “Be my guest.”

By the time his nose stops bleeding, her number is saved in his phone.

(Bonus: Her contact name is ‘Clarke’ with a fist emoji next to it. Her doing.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "bellarke putting together a playlist?"

“It can’t be  _just_  The Beatles, Bellamy. Nostalgia only goes so far at a party.” 

“Sue me for not wanting to listen to Taylor Swift all night,” Bellamy grumbles, scrolling through his music library.

“Don’t dis T-Swift, Blake. And don’t try to tell me you didn’t love Shake It Off.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “What about Halsey?”

He blinks at her stunned look. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just a little surprised you’ve heard of someone that cool.”

“I don’t have to be helping you, you know,” he says, leg brushing against hers as he moves to stand up, “O still wants me to help with setting out the food.”

“Your questionable taste in music will be missed,” she fires back, teasing.

“God, why am I dating you?” he groans with another eye roll, “See you downstairs.”

He leans down to brush his lips across her cheek and she catches his shoulder, pulling him back to press a smiling kiss against his mouth.

“Be down in a minute.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Hey, I saw your mini fic post and I was wondering if you could do a Bellarke CollegeAU? Like some cute little dressed-as-hipsters student goodness?"

Clarke doesn’t  _try_  to develop a crush on the hipster boy in the library, but he’s all dorky glasses and plaid shirts and intense concentration, plus  _freckles_ , so she ends up looking at him whenever her eyes wander from her laptop.

It doesn’t help that he always seems to be studying the same times she is.

His dark hair is particularly messy the day she takes a bathroom break and comes back to a scrap of paper sitting on her notebook.

_‘Stare, much? You’re pretty cute too, if it helps.’_

She can physically feel the blood rushing to her face.

Before she has the chance to look she hears a deep, earnest voice, “The note was a bit much, wasn’t it? Too cocky?” 

When she lifts her eyes, he’s standing in front of her, one hand behind his neck.

He looks so goddamn  _sheepish_  and she can’t hide her grin, “A little.”

He smiles back and she’s  _done._

“Come study over here?” she asks, nodding to the chair across from her.

Once he settles in, she can’t stop catching his eyes, and he grins at her each time. She doesn’t get a single line of her essay done.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Bellarke, thinking they're secret dating but everyone knows already bc of how happy they've been?"

“Bell!” she hisses, brushing his hand from where it’s resting on the small of her back as they walk into the movie theater.

He pulls it back quickly, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he mouths, when no one’s looking.

“Come on you two,” Octavia calls, turning back to them, “No time for fighting, the movie starts soon.”

Clarke sends him a small smile before catching up with his sister. Because yeah, it kind of sucks.

They sit next to each other during the movie, probably because their friends want to see them argue, but it means she can brush her fingers lazily against his when they both reach for the popcorn, and that he can lean in to whisper snarky commentary into her ear.

It’s Monty who’s their downfall.

“Ready to go?” Raven asks as the credits roll.

“Yeah,” Monty says from his place next to Miller. “Unless the lovebirds want to stay for the credits,” his gaze flicks to Clarke and Bellamy, “I think they’re the only ones who care.”

She sees Bellamy jerk his head toward Monty out of the corner of her eye.

“How the fuck do you  _know_?” he asks, more confused than angry.

“Oh,” Monty says, stunned, “Uh, that wasn’t supposed to be me outing you guys…but um…we’ve all pretty much known for a while.”

The rest of their friends are nodding along in mixtures of amusement and near laughter.

“When?” Clarke asks, slipping her hand into Bellamy’s. Partly just because she can, partly because he kind of looks like he wants to throw up.

“I mean, the sexual tension has been palpable for ages,” Raven pipes up as they stand up and file out of the theater, “But I was sleeping on the couch when Bellamy snuck out two weeks ago. Or, almost asleep. It was…eye opening.”

“Was that a fucking pun, Reyes?”

Laughter follows them out into the afternoon sunlight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You work for the popular campus radio station and keep passively/aggressively dedicating songs to me.”

_You’re listening to Ark U radio and this next song goes out to the blonde girl in Evirosci 110 who keeps sitting in the only chair with a left handed desk._

Monday morning, Clarke sits in the desk directly  _next_  to the left handed desk. (You know, the one she didn’t even know was any different, seeing as she never uses the desk, opting to rest her laptop on her knees instead.)

She’s set to tell off whoever takes that chair…except she never get the chance. The professor starts lecturing just as a tall, dark haired student slips into the seat.

He does a double take at her after he pulls out a notebook and she meets his gaze with a steely one of her own, raising her eyebrows. A second later, red floods his face beneath a smattering of freckles.

Which is definitely not what she was expecting.

He drops his eyes from hers to scribble something in his notebook, before tearing a small scrap out and passing it to her.

His handwriting is messy, but not illegible.

_Shit, you listen to Ark FM don’t you? I’m really sorry, I had kind of a rough night. That was out of line._

He looks appropriately embarrassed when she glances back at him and she feels her anger dwindle.

She flips the paper over.

_Don’t worry about it. I get it. Also I had no idea that was the only left hand desk, so I’m sorry too._

She hands it to him with timid grin. Relief spreads on his face as he reads it and pulls out another piece of paper. She can’t help but like the way his hair falls into his eyes as he writes.

_How could you have known though? Seriously, it’s my bad._

She responds quickly.

_Seriously, it’s fine. You started the essay for this class yet?_

He pens a response, but pauses halfway through, considering something before he finishes and lets it fall on her keyboard.

_Not yet. I was gonna head to the library after this and get started on it…you want to come with? I could buy you coffee to make up for being a dick._

She doesn’t write back, just looks up to give him a nod and bites her lip on a grin that threatens to make her cheeks hurt.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Imagine person A having a child ask if they are in love with person B" + Bellarke! The child could be like a little baby delinquent or something :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went canon-divergent, everything-is-happy on this one.

Clarke feels a small hand tug at her shirt while she washes clothes in the rain collection trough. She looks down to see a girl who she recognizes as one of the little ones who’s taken to following Bellamy around the camp.

They’re thriving now, something she’d always wanted for but never really let herself hope for.

“Hi sweetheart. What’s up?”

“Bellamy says I gotta ask you a question.” 

Clarke grins at the way she says his name, slow and careful. 

Her relationship with Bellamy is something new. Something she never even let herself want until one day he let her know that it wasn’t a pipe dream.

“Well I guess you better ask me then.”

“He said to ask if you’re in love with him,” she asks with an embarrassed giggle, and Clarke feels her face flush red.

.

.

.

Bellamy’s hand catches rough against her wrist later that evening, pulling her behind one of the cabins.

“You love me?” His pupils are blown and he’s got a look so serious on his face that she wants to laugh. Then she decides she might as well. She’s had so few opportunities do so over the last few years.

“Clarke,” he says, pained, as she laughs.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” she says, breathless from laughter.

Or, at least, that’s what she tries to say. His lips are earnest against hers before she can finish.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "you're the friend who was sent to check on me in the campus' studio space and found me alone and mostly asleep and instead of waking me up you rest my head in your lap and read until I've actually gotten some rest"

Bellamy trudges to the library in the rain. He doesn’t mind. It’s not that cold.

_“She’s probably caught up studying, or sleeping,” Raven says, when he asks if she’s seen Clarke._

_“I’ll go check on her.”_

He finds her exactly where he expects to, curled up on the couch in the back corner of the second floor, head pillowed awkwardly on her hands, blonde hair a mess, notebooks spread across the floor around her.

He can’t help but smile.

He settles down beside her before tracing a finger slowly up the bridge of her nose. Her face scrunches as she comes back to consciousness.

“…Bell…?”

“Hey sleepyhead.”

Her eyes are heavy as she looks up at him and grins a little, “What time is it?”

“Little past 2 am.”

She moves to stand up before his hand catches hers, stopping her

“We should go,” she says, a little confused.

He makes a sound of dissension in the back of his throat and instead pulls her closer, so her head rests in his lap.

“Bellamy?”

“It’s late already. Get some rest so I don’t have to worry about you passing out on the way back,” he says with a teasing grin. 

Her soft smile grows and he swallows. “Get much studying done?”

She hums, shifts a little, and lets her eyes fall shut, “Never enough.”

He laughs quietly, “You know you work too hard, right?”

“So you tell me.” She cracks an eye open, “But I distinctly remember finding you asleep on a bench in the quad during finals last quarter.”

It’s sometimes strikes him as strange to talk to her like this. 

They used to loathe each other. He was a dick, she was headstrong, and they were always butting heads. Then they found themselves enrolled in a class together. It should have been horrible, but it wasn’t. Inexplicably, they worked seamlessly together. 

There aren’t many people he’s more fond of than Clarke and he’s not sure how it got to be that way.

“Go to sleep, Clarke.”

She raises her hand to find his, a little clumsily, and he helps her out, slipping her fingers between hers. She gives them a squeeze.

“Thanks Bellamy.”

He thinks for sure that she’s already asleep five minutes later until she speaks again. 

“Hey Bell?”

“Hmm?”

“We should get coffee sometime when one of us isn’t half asleep. Just the two of us.”

If she were fully aware, she might have felt his pulse quicken in his fingertips where they’re pressed against her palm.

“How about you ask me again when you’re not half asleep.”

He barely catches her quiet response.

“…count on it.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "We reeaaally don't like each other but our dogs do and we take the same walking route, dammit!"

She feels Lacey pull at the leash and dread boils in her stomach.

Sure enough, her golden retriever surges forward again as a German shepherd turns the corner in front of them, tugging his tall, dark-haired owner behind him. A second later, the dog has actually pulled free of his owners grip, bounding toward Clarke and Lacey.

“Cerberus, heel!”

Clarke snatches up the free leash and the dogs take to sniffing each other, and tries not to laugh when the man finally joins them, a little breathless.

She hands the leash back to him with dry look, “You named your dog for the three-headed guard of the underworld and and yet  _I_ get made fun of for a princess leash?”

He nods his thanks to her, reclaiming the leash and looking a little sheepish. The image is surprisingly at odds with the way he yelled at her the week before, when he’d nearly tripped over their dogs’ tangled leashes, demanding that she keep her pet in line.

“I realize now might be a good time to apologize,” he says, leaning over to scratch behind Lacey’s ears, “Clearly our dogs are equally over-excitable.”

Her gaze is still skeptical when he looks up and he struggles for words, “I um…last week wasn’t my finest moment. I shouldn’t have been such a dick.”

She tries and fails to maintain her scowl and blames it on the freckles scattered across his face.

“You can make it up to me with coffee,” she grumbles out as Cerberus licks her palm, “But for now I like your dog more than you.”

His smile is even better than his freckles, “Yeah, most people do.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Bellarke in the kitchen cooking and Bellamy fainting coz Clarke cut her finger a lil while doing the vegetables? Of course Clarke makes fun of him :)))"

“Fuck. Bell, come on.”

Her eyes scan anxiously across her best friend’s face, searching for any sign of movement. He  _is_ breathing, which is really fucking lucky considering he’s literally just  _fainted on the floor_. Idiot.

She kneels beside his head and flicks water into his face, gentle at first and then harder when he doesn’t wake.

“Please don’t make me take you to the hospital,” she says, irritated, punctuating each word with a flick of water.

And she’s worried, really, she is, but when his eyes flutter open in shock she can’t help but dissolve into giggles at the shocked look on this face.

“Clarke? What…? Oh shit!” he sits up suddenly and she grabs his arm to steady him. “You cut your hand, I need to take you to the hospital, shit–”

He seems to eventually realize that she’s laughing, and visibly relaxes when she holds up her thumb, swathed in a band-aid and no longer bleeding.

She tries not to notice the way he stiffens and then relaxes when she presses her lips to his forehead, tries not to imagine pressing her lips against his instead.

(”You’re such a mother hen. It was hardly a scratch.”

“Shut up.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [tumblr](http://www.goldenheadfreckledheart.tumblr.com) if you want!


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